Inside Holder's Head
by Pete Campbell's Mistress
Summary: Alphabet story- A look into the inner workings of Stephen Holder's mind.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

A-Ames

Holder thinks of Jasper Ames sometimes. He thinks about Jasper and hopes that the kid feels guilty. And then, Holder thinks about himself at that age. He remembers what it was like to grow up with no money and absentee parents and dyslexia and he really _fucking _hopes the kid feels guilty. For all his money, Jasper Ames was no better than the thugs who banged in his neighborhood. And Holder himself may have turned out just like one of those thugs if not for his sister. But Jasper's pops, man, he was just as bad-using people and making promises he ain't never intended to keep and now poor Rosie Larsen is dead.

Holder is fairly positive Michael Ames feels no guilt for the role he played in Rosie's death, and he sure as shit knows that Terri Marek feels like she's better off dead, but how does Jasper feel? Does he feel anything at all? Does he realize how messed up it was to have sex with Sterling without even really making sure who the girl was first? And to video tape it at that! Does he get it?

But maybe Holder shouldn't be passing judgment. Maybe he should have some sympathy for the kid. His parents obviously aren't there even if they physically are and it isn't exactly like Holder hasn't slept with his fair share of women whose name he forgot even before the dead was done. Then again, he was high as a kite when those women came in and out of his life. But Jasper wasn't a saint either. And what was it that guy in NA was always telling him about helping those in need? Maybe he should email the kid. Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

B-Bras

Look, he's a guy, okay? And ain't no guy out there who is gonna blame a man for peepin' on a girl's undergarments. When Holder was in high school, he prided himself on becoming a connoisseur of women's under things. He would sit in the back of his freshman math class and instead of writing down the quadratic formula, he would make notes on the females in his class. _Kay Michaels-white bra, no frills. Sandra Vogel-black bra, studs on the strap. Jenny Espinoza-red bra, lace. _And damn did he feel like a man for knowing these things. Later that year his sister sat him down and had a really frank talk with him about sex. She handed him a box of condoms and told him, "Wrap it up, Stephen, every time. You hear me?' And he'd nodded vigorously, all his bravado gone.

He was a sophomore when Jenny Espinoza took off her shirt for him. They'd had one too many vodka lemonades at the homecoming game and after several sloppy kisses, she'd pulled him into the now-abandoned locker room and unceremoniously pulled her too-tight shirt over her head. He'd been breathless, and his pants had gotten tight too quick. He was fairly sure he was about to blow this. And then she'd kissed him again and pulled his hands to her breasts and he was fucking positive this was going down as the greatest moment in his whole life.

He was a junior when Kay Michaels finally gave him a shot. Kay with her beautiful, innocent, angelic face and her equally angelic bra lay squirming underneath him. She'd moaned his name and her delicate hands tore at his back. Kay was a virgin and tipsy on wine coolers after junior prom. His hand ghosted down her stomach to her panty line, but then she sat bolt upright and looked panicked. She couldn't go any further, and Stephen said he understood. They spent the night talking. She was actually a pretty badass chick. He still talked to her some times. She had 3 little shorties and a good man now.

He was a senior in high school when he got his acceptance letter into Wash U. He sat there trembling with the letter in his hands and his eyes glued to the words _are happy to announce you also qualify for a full scholarship based on financial need and academic acumen. _He'd gone out that night and partied like no one's business. After his fourth beer and third joint, Holder felt like a god. That's when he spotted Sandra Vogel across the party. It had taken next to no convincing to get her into one of the spare rooms at the party. She was undressing as he was closing the door. That was the night he learned some girls didn't always wear bras.

Now, he was a grown ass man and the sight of a woman's bra up against her clothes or peeking out from her shirt didn't exactly cause the same reaction. He still looked and took note, but he prided himself on being slightly more evolved than the drooling mess he was at 14. To be honest, he could barely remember what some of the women he'd slept with when he was on meth looked like, let alone if they'd been wearing undergarments. Actually, remembering his discovery of the female body is what kept him celibate sometimes. He didn't want to turn back into that bumbling mess.

With his heels propped up on his desk, Holder smiled thinking about what an evolved individual he was. With the smirk still on his face, he turned when he heard the door open. Sarah Linden walked in wearing capri running pants and a workout tank top. The kind of shirt where the bra was built in, which was very obvious at this point since it was cold in his office. She was talking, he was sure of it, but his mind could not focus. He stared at her, smirk still firmly in place, as she moved across the room and grabbed her zipper up hoodie and put it on.

"Holder!" Linden snapped and looked at him.

"Yo, Linden!" He addressed her as if she'd just walked in the room.

"Did you hear me? I'm going to grab a shower and then we need to get going," Linden smirked too as she walked passed him.

Holder wasn't sure, but he was fairly positive she knew what had him tongue-tied. Actually, a cold shower didn't sound so bad. He hopped up and hoped to be back by the time Linden was finished.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

C-Cigarettes

Holder had started smoking in the 6th grade. His sister smoked and damn did she look cool doing it. He started ratting cigarettes from her packs back then. He was never an athlete and his sister smoked in the house, so no one noticed for a long time. In high school, he would cut class and sit underneath the bleachers with the stoners and smoke his cancer sticks. Eventually, his love for smoking let to him experimenting with smoking marijuana. The calm that overcame him as he smoked Mary Jane was a welcome distraction from the shitstorm that was his home life those days. His moms was trying to come back into their lives and Holder's sister wasn't having any of it. His mom was into all kinds of things his sister didn't want him to have anything to do with.

Turns out, Marijuana is a gateway drug. After years of smoking the stuff, Holder was confident that he could handle himself on Narco, even when he was undercover. But at the end of the day he'd been wrong. The force put him into a program, and he got clean. The thing was, even at NA meetings, people was always smoking cigarettes. He tried to be stronger than the addiction, but he couldn't help the small backslide. The burn of the nicotine in his lungs was all too welcome. And, hell, it kept him off the hard stuff.

When he'd met Sarah Linden, he knew she was a bit of a hard ass. He had heard of her before he was re-assigned. She was a fine looking female in a man's world, course people were going to talk. He'd been surprised by just how cold she was with him at first. He tried his hardest, but his style and hers, they just didn't click, not at first anyway.

But then, the more they smoked together, the more they bonded. She would snake a cigarette and light up and relax just a bit. The tension in her shoulders would subside just a millimeter and she would crack a smile. He could tell he was getting to her and it made him feel more like a man than he had in a while. He stopped caring how many cigarettes she bummed, so long as she would relax a little. She was no doubt the lead in the Larsen case, understanding it in a way he barely could, but she was starting to show him how to see the world like her, like a fucking badass detective.

And then one night on stake out when they aren't talking, just smoking and staring out the window waiting on the suspect to move, he notices the curve of her chin and the slow slope of her nose. She brings the cigarette to her lips and takes a slow drag. How had he never noticed how full her lips were before this? The smoke hisses out of her lips and swirls near the cracked window before escaping and he thinks this might be the sexiest thing he's ever seen. She seems to feel his eyes on her so she turns and quirks a smile at him before starting the engine and heading back to the station.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

D-Dreams

Holder rarely remembered his dreams. A social worker from his youth had once told him that dreams were a way of working out the problems that existed for you during the day. That small nugget had stuck with him, and he liked to think he was able to forget his dreams by sheer force of will.

Of course, there were still certain dreams that Holder wouldn't mind remembering: the kind where he woke up sweaty, breathing heavy, and needing to wash his sticky sheets. But even then, Holder rarely remembered. And since he was pretty well satisfied in the morning, he figured why did he need to?

Those nights in the clinic getting straight had been the hardest of his life. Even though the clinic treated him right and gave him the necessary drugs to come off his addiction, he still lay in his bed in a cold sweat waiting for sleep to claim him. When unconsciousness did come to him, he would be plagued by dreams of the things he had done. And when he would wake, his breathe would be fast and his heart would be racing, but he knew these were memories and not dreams, and he could rectify them, so he would calm himself into another listless slumber.

When Linden showed up at his door with Little Man, he experienced a rush of pride knowing that she trusted him enough to come to him. He tried to tip toe around her the best he could because he knew this trust was fresh and new. He even offered to sleep on the couch so she could take his bed. The problem turned out to be that Little Man was sleeping on the couch across from him.

That night, he remembered his dream. _He was laying in his bed when she emerged from the bathroom in one of his thin t-shirts. Her long red hair was trickling down her back, finally freed from her ever-present ponytail. Her milky white skin seemed to shine in the dim light provided from the bathroom. He shifted to look at her and she smiled, slipping beneath the covers and scooting until she was right next to him. "Hi," she had whispered as she took his face in her small hands. "Hi," was his throaty reply. She searched his eyes and then leaned in kissing him hard. His hands immediately wrapped around her waist and pulled her on top of himself. She moaned and rolled her hips against his. His hands slipped under the shirt she was wearing and easily pulled it over her head. He was thrilled to find that she wasn't wearing a bra. She smiled at him as she slowly snaked her kisses down the side of his neck and traced his "serenity" tattoo with her tongue. As she sank lower down his body, he couldn't help the strangled moans coming from his mouth or lacing his long fingers into her thick hair. _

He woke up with a start to see Jack's face swimming in his vision. Not exactly the person he most wanted to see right now. Jack was asking about where Holder kept his towels so he could shower. After Little Man hopped in the shower, Holder got up and tried to relax his own body, which ached for release, as he set about getting out ingredients for breakfast.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

E-Energy

He's lagging these days. When he was on meth, he had all the energy in the world and he could (and would) go for days on end without sleeping. After getting clean, and realizing how much damage he'd done to his body, Holder recognized his dire need for sleep.

Linden, it seemed, could go for weeks on end on cheap coffee and cigarettes. Granted, baby girl looked like she hadn't slept in weeks, but she could keep her mind sharp. Holder admired that about her. She was a lot of things, but first and foremost she was one badass cop. She could stare at the same information as him day after day and, yet, she saw something else. Let the guys say what they will in the locker room, Linden was hot and smart and she had the best damn close record in the department.

So he tried her lifestyle, and it was hard. He never felt so exhausted in his whole life. He was hungry all the time and he was chain smoking like he hadn't done since the clinic, but he knew they were making good progress and it felt electric. He stopped talking to so many of the guys in the locker room because they didn't get them. And he wondered for a moment when he started thinking of he and Linden as a _them, _but he had and he knew it fit.

That's why when he catches up to Jaime Wright and he sees him threatening Linden, ain't no amount of sleep deprivation, cheap coffee, nicotine, or anything else can be blamed for his decision to shoot Wright. Wright had threatened Linden and that was all Holder needed to know when he shot him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

F- Funyuns

When he was a shortie, his sister used to swear in the kitchen like nobody's business. She hated cooking. In fact, the first time she'd made him a frozen pizza, she had tried to pull the pizza out quickly and burnt the inside of her wrists. Social services had questioned her for an hour to make sure she hadn't cut herself on purpose. With all that hub-bub in the kitchen, Holder kept his culinary skills to the minimum for years. His sister became adept at microwave foods and takeout, and Holder kept a high metabolism trying out for football and soccer and basketball.

Years later when Holder was on his own in a tiny little dorm at Wash U, he relied heavily on his meal card to get him through. Long nights of studying often ended with him smoking a joint with his roommate, cracking open a bag of Funyuns, and playing video games until the sun rose. He could not count how many Funyuns he'd eaten during his time on meth, or describe how much he missed the fake onion delicacy when he was in the clinic.

When he'd gotten back on the force, and been told he was being transferred, he was excited to be given another shot. A clean slate in a new department. Then he'd met Linden. And man did home girl dislike him. She didn't seem to understand his philosophies or know when he was just yanking her super uptight chain. And damn did she dislike Funyuns. She hated the way they stank up her car and the way they made his breathe smell and, for the life of her, she could not figure out how he would allow such filth into the temple that was his body.

Then he'd met Jack. And Little Man was one cool little dude. And Little Man loved him some Funyuns. As soon as Linden saw Little Man and Holder connect over the crunchy goodness, she knew it was over. That was his in with her son. Jack hated most of the men in his mother's life, but Holder got that. He hated the men that floated in and out of his sister's life. He hated these dude who came in and thought they would be his new daddy. And he remembered what it felt like to want to punch even the good ones in the face. And it wasn't like Holder thought he and Linden were there….yet….but he knew having an in with her son was definitely a good thing. So he'd sit back and share a bag of Funyuns on his couch with Little Man after dinner watching a Bruce Lee movie and try very hard not to fuck it up.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

G-Grace

His sister was a dancer when they were little, before his mom started trading family time for eight-balls and daddy dearest took off with his secretary who was eight years younger. And damn did his sister look like an angel as she spun and twirled around the stage. She leapt from point to point and Holder would watch her with apt attention. Eventually she had to give up dancing in order to get a part time job at the local Mickey D's to help pay for the clothes and food that Stephen needed as he grew up. But he always remembered her grace. And there were times when she was trying to clean the house or flitting around the kitchen trying to avoid disaster when he could see the dancer come out in her again. Her grace showed in the agile way she moved and Holder prayed to whatever god was listening that she never lost that part of her that was so pure and so good.

Eventually his sister met a man and they worked fairly well together and she got knocked up with Davy. And now Davy had some of that grace his momma always had. Davy would twirl with his trucks and cars and squeal in delight when he saw his uncle mimicking him. And while Davy probably wasn't ever gonna be a dancer, he'd make a good athlete with his natural grace and balance.

As for Holder, well he ain't never had any grace. Years of training and conditioning for the football and soccer and basketball team proved beyond a reasonable doubt that he had not inherited his sister's grace. He struggled with most things in life-he couldn't gain weight if his life depended on it and although he managed to pull good grades, he struggled due to his dyslexia. But the one area in his life he never struggled was with his spoken words. He prided himself on his ability to lay down some sweet knowledge on any unsuspecting fool who should cross his path.

So when Sarah Linden would scowl at him and prove just how fucking good she was at her job, he would smirk and lay down some sweet knowledge on her. And before he knew it, she began to smile.


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

H-Homicide

Holder's goal had always been to get on homicide. That's why he went to Wash U, wasn't it? If he had wanted to be a beat cop his whole life, he woulda gone straight from high school to the academy and been happy making a buck at the end of the day. But, no, that wasn't what he wanted. So, he subjected himself to four more years of schooling in the vain hope that he could move his way up that ladder much faster.

Fresh-faced and twenty-two, Holder had gone through the academy and earned himself a pretty sweet spot with Seattle PD. He'd spent less than a year working the street as a beat cop before his transfer to narcotics went through. Narco had been his second choice, but he figured that was his best bet since he fit the part and could work undercover. He integrated well into the department. Most of the females that worked vice for Narco were banging hot hunnies, but also married, as it turned out, to the guys working vice. Ain't nobody understands the life of a cop like another cop.

Eventually he was thrown into the street and working his first case. He knew what how far it would go if he solved this one, so he did whatever it took. The first time he'd felt the meth pouring through his veins, he had felt invincible. All the hunnies in the club couldn't get enough of him. He'd been drinking fairly heavily prior to trying the meth and god damn did life all of a sudden seem to make more sense. But quickly, every night he needed the meth to feel strong. And shortly after that, he needed the math all day and night to feel normal.

For what it was worth, he did close the case almost three years after he started. He was just shy of thirty and his sister was screaming at him as she forcibly checked him into the rehab clinic. He spent his twenty-ninth birthday inside and when he was clean, he got the second best news of his life: he was being transferred to homicide. He knew it was mainly because they couldn't trust him not to fall down the rabbit hole again in Narco, but he knew he was a decent cop and he could prove himself again.

His first day on Homicide he caught a case. And lord knows he needed to prove he wasn't a total waste of departmental money, so he delved into it a little more than he normally would. And turns out, he was right. There was some meat to the Rosie Larsen case.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

I-Intelligent

The thing is, no one at Wash U expected a hood rat like him to have any intelligence. The females bed him to try living on the wild side, and the guys friended him to say they had a brush with the dangerous life.

But the truth was, he was pretty freaking smart. His sister had stayed on him about studying and learning everything there was in life to know. When the school had sent him for testing in second grade and he was told he had dyslexia, his sister had spent extra time at night helping him learn to read and reading to him. He'd been like a sponge absorbing all the knowledge anyone was willing to impart on him.

Things got easier as he got older because he developed some damn good coping skills and he was realistic about how long things would take him. In high school, his special ed case worker barely paid him any attention because he did so well. He busted his balls until he got that scholarship to Wash U and he still managed to have some fun.

So when haters tried to bring him down in college, he just laughed and smiled and laid some sweet knowledge on them cause ain't nothing a privileged white boy hates more than being put in his place by a hood rat like him. He'd shamed the other recruits in the academy too.

But he'd lost his confidence after falling down the rabbit hole. He had to learn a whole new set of coping skills just to live a clean life. The desire for crank literally caused him to jitter. He couldn't focus as well as he used to and certainly not to the level he needed to focus to keep up with Linden. Even his sponsor was trying to whisper short cuts into his ears and he had to admit that he had listened.

But in the end, the truth was that he was intelligent and he just needed Sarah Linden to kick his ass into shape again. Just one more thing he owed her.


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

J- Jokes

Let's get one thing straight, Holder's got jokes. He always has. You have to have jokes growing up when your dad runs off with the secretary who is barely older than your sister and your moms ain't been seen in weeks because she too doped up to get off the couch.

His sister handled the ridicule differently. She had a strong exterior and she was smart as hell. Anyone who dared mess with her had done lost their mind. She could beat you seven ways to Sunday verbally or physically.

Holder liked being the class clown. When he was the master and commander of the comedy central, ain't no one trying to clown on him. And he liked it that way. Plus, he was always a softie at heart. He didn't like any one getting too cutting. So he ran his comedy kingdom in such a way that he felt everyone was having a good time. And that worked until he was in high school and another kid came along, Dan Dreiser, and that alliterative sonovabitch took his place.

In the academy, he found his place with the slackers who loved his jokes. And his jokes got him in good with all the right people in Narco, which made his transfer all that much easier. He even used his jokes to get him in good with his roommate at the clinic.

The first person whom had ever shown flat out disdain for his jokes was Sarah Linden. Sarah Linden who seemed incapable of smiling. Sarah Linden who showed general disdain for everything Holder did. But he'd never been a quitter when it came to making people smile, so he kept at it.

And one day, she cracked. It was the smallest smile he had ever seen and goddamn if it wasn't the most gorgeous. So he pushed even harder, learned when to be quiet, knew what she could joke about and what she couldn't. And then what felt like weeks but was probably only a couple days later, she laughed. A small, choked laugh, but a laugh none the less. And his heart soared. He'd never been so happy as that day.

The night she and Jack stayed at his place, he heard her laugh a full-blown Sarah Linden laugh and it warmed his heart. He tried to coax as many full-blown laughs out of her as he could. He was immediately in love with the sound of it. And he loved that he was the only one who could make her laugh. He'd never seen her give anyone else anything more than a sneer. This was his gift to her. If he never did anything right again, at least he could make her laugh, and that was enough for him.


	11. Chapter 11

K-Kiss

Holder started dreaming about her lips after that day they spent looking for Jack. He'd paid special attention to her face that day and all the emotions that transformed and transfigured it. He'd watched her lips purse and smash into a thin line. He'd watched as the simple act of taking a drag from her cigarette had become an incredibly erotic motion.

Of course, he didn't let on that he was thinking about, dreaming about, her lips. He tried to make like everything was normal because she was still talking about Sonoma, and he couldn't be letting the idea of her soft, full lips mess with his brain. Sonoma, he couldn't even remember the guy's real first name, had better know how good he had it.

Then he'd pulled the stupidest move of his career after listening to Sloane whispering shortcuts in his ears, and she had been pissed. Royally, fucking pissed. So angry she had refused to speak to him for what felt like eternity. He was used to Linden being there always. The only time they were ever apart is when they slept, and then he dreamt of her writhing beneath him and those lips all over his body. He realized he needed her there, actually _needed _her by his side to make sense of the world around him when it turned out that he'd put his career on the line to finger the wrong guy.

But she had let him back in and now he paid attention to those lips to make sure he understand what she needed. And she was never short on the commands. Even when she showed up on his doorstep looking for a safe place to sleep, she maintained control. He watched her looking out the window and studied the way her lips quivered. And he so desperately wanted to close the distance between them and kiss her until she couldn't breathe and show her he could take care of her.

His heart broke when he saw her hopefulness when Sonoma bailed her out of that psychiatric joint. He wanted those full lips to smile at him that way. And then the way her lips quivered again when that dick disappeared before she got to the lobby. He'd wanted to kiss her there and show her that not everyone left. That he was here for the long haul and he wasn't ever gonna leave her side, even if she tried to make him.

After he shot Jaime Wright, he felt numb, shocked by what he had done. He felt no guilt, sure in what he had done, but something was missing. Never in the short amount of time that he had known her had he wanted to wrap Sarah Linden in his arms so badly and have her small frame envelop him and have her place those soft, full lips on his to let him know everything was going to be okay.

When the case officially closed, and Holder was back in the car driving the streets of Seattle to drop Linden off god knows where, he was working up the nerve to ask her to his dojo for some dinner later. He'd caught the call on his radio and Linden had insisted on getting out right there. Trapped between what he wanted to do and what he needed to do, he let her out and took off. He was hoping this was a cut and dry case and he could still be home early enough to casually call Linden and invite her over for some grub. But by the time he got home, the moment had passed.

He thought about her a lot in the year they didn't work together. When he was alone, he would often play out conversations with her in his head as he worked to solve cases. He called her every now and then to check in and make sure she was okay because he still felt like it was his job to protect her. But those dreams of her lips never ceased.

The day she came back to work the Pied Piper case with him had been exhilarating and confusing. He had a new partner now and he'd definitely gone right behind Reddick's back by bringing Linden in. But they fell back into their pattern quickly. Holder had known for a while now that Reddick was a lazy fuck when it came to actual police work since Holder had carried most of their cases on his own.

Being back in the car with her on stakeout was hard. He forgot how enticing she was, and he had to remind himself a hundred times that he had a hunny at home. Valentine's Day had been super awkward. He totally forgot that the holiday was coming up so fast and since he had a tendency to forgot about his woman when he was around Linden, he had walked right into that one.

Then Bullet died and damn did he want to use. His hands shook so violently he had a hard time driving or holding a pen long enough to sign the evidence log. He sat there chain smoking in his living room and trying hard to remember every single reason he shouldn't use. He was startled by the sound of the front door opening.

And then Sarah Linden was invading his personal space. Her scent was familiar and comforting enough to overpower the smoke smell in his mind. Her soft, gentle tones soothed him, and when she leaned in trying adamantly to get him to understand how this wasn't his fault, he couldn't stop himself any longer. He leaned in, felt the cool skin of her forehead touching his, and then the whiff of air breeze by his lips as she turned away.

And then he cried. And she thought he was crying for Bullet, but he was also crying for the woman he couldn't have.


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

**Author's Note: THANK YOU to everyone who has favorited or followed or left comments!**

L-Love

"Share the love." The words had rolled off Holder's lips so easily as he teased Linden on their stroll through the storage facility looking for Joe Mill's container. As soon as the words left his lips though, he tensed. He shot a quick look at Linden who had a smile on her face and didn't seem to see his inner panic.

Love. _Love. _Had he honestly just said _love_ to his partner? Had he lost his mind? He hung back a second once they reached the right container and watched Linden move through the clutter of junk. Her small, lithe figured moved around the tight space as if she knew where she was going. And Holder wouldn't be shocked if she did. Linden was smart and intuitive and, unlike most smart people, she didn't question her intuition wanting to understand how it worked, just trusted that it did. That was another thing he loved about her. Love. There was that damn word again.

Did he love Linden? He had her back for sure. The thought of anyone trying to physically harm Linden nearly threw him into a blind rage. He knew for sure home girl had some emotion issues. Her history with men wasn't exactly on the straight and narrow. She dated that douche bag who fathered Little Man, she dated her ex-partner (although, now that he thinks about it, that wasn't _exactly_ a poor choice), she dated Sonoma (the prick who couldn't stick around long enough to say hi after getting her out the (mental) joint last he saw), and she dated that baby from the ferry. Did she date anyone normal? Was Holder normal?

Did having her back mean he was in love with her? Probably not. But if he was gonna be honest with himself, this player hadn't exactly been playing the game. After Linden retired, he found himself in between the sheets with a few redheads before settling for an intelligent, strong, intuitive woman who had a bright future in her career as a D.A.

All cards on the table, he had a rather physical reaction when Linden came into the precinct late at night in her running outfit at the beginning of the Pied Piper case. Thankfully, he had been able to hide behind his desk for a while after she left to hide his shame. But, truth be told, that wasn't the first or last time he'd had that reaction to her. And he wasn't so sure how he felt about having a halfie when she was sporting one of those God-awful sweaters. What kinda card-carrying man gets turned on by a thick wool sweater? It wasn't so much the sweater as imagining what she was hiding underneath.

He looked up to see Linden turning around with a cigarette butt. And then he was flying down the hallways looking for Joe Mills. And then he heard the desperate plea in her voice calling for him. And he knew. He loved her.


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

M-Moment

Holder's heart was beating about a mile a minute. Why the _fuck_ hadn't he driven her home? This was _his_ fault. He was gonna have to be the one to call Little Man and tell Jack that he, Holder, was the one responsible for getting Linden killed. He couldn't make that call. Hearing Little Man's voice would be like telling Davy he knicked his coin all over again, except probably worse because Jack would know exactly what they were talking about and why that was such a big deal.

He was starting to feel claustrophobic. Why were there so many damn people in this room? Who the _fuck _did they think they were? They were not worthy of listening to what might be her final words, her final thoughts. These douche bag cops were the ones who ragged on her because her numbers were Everest high while theirs were sinking to the bottom of the Atlantic. These guys thought they knew her, but they had no clue. They didn't know Linden the mom, Linden the foster kid, or Linden the woman. All they saw was a threat-a smart, sexy, tough-as-shit cop who closed cases.

And then the line cut out.

And he was falling….

….falling

…..falling.

That could _not_ have been the last time he ever heard her voice. And all he wanted in that moment was to drop to his knees and pray to God, Buddha, or anyone else who would listen to bring her back to him. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself busting the pastor and then running to her side and holding her. She would resist at first, like he always did to the intimacy of touch, but then she would melt against him and he would be able to feel the rhythm of her breathe and know she was okay and she was here.

It seemed that God was in a granting wishes kind of mood. But when he got to her side, all he offered was a tentative hand to her shoulder because there was more than one way he was afraid of losing her. And at least this way he could still feel the steady rhythm of her breathing and know she was here and alive.


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Killing_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to AMC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

N-Newbie

The night before he started on the force, he couldn't sleep. He lay awake in his sister's apartment listening to the sound of Seattle below him. Big Sis had busted her ass to get to where she was now. She worked (both at and after school) harder than anyone he knew. She put herself through community college and she was a damn fine RN. She worked in the emergency room at Seattle General, and she had given him the standard lecture about being safe on the job at dinner that night. Then she got real quiet and looked him dead in the eye and said, "Stephen, I'm serious. It's you and me, kiddo, for life. I can't do this daily grind without you. You're my everything. You promise me you'll be safe." He hadn't quite known what to say after that. Big Sis had been his moms for so long he sometimes forgot he had an actual mom for that. Once he had regained his composure, he did his best to reassure her he would do everything in his ability to ensure his own safety.

So that first day at the precinct he was tired. He listened to the long lecture from his sergeant and then was paired off with his partner and shown the small desk they would share with many other cops on the same beat. The new staff sat shoulder-to-shoulder in a small room filling out paperwork and signing out badges, guns, squad cars and the like.

Eventually the lack of sleep and mind-numbing boringness of the first day routine was getting to him. He stood up, stretched his long limbs, and headed to the vending machine. That was the first time he saw her. She was sitting in the small lounge swirling her coffee stirrer in her oversized mug absent-mindedly. She didn't make eye contact with him when he entered the room, and he didn't try to catch her attention. He moved to the back of the room, rubbing his heavily eyelids and dug in his pocket for change to purchase some Funyuns from the vending. He let out a little, "Yes!" of excitement when the bright yellow bag popped out the bottom of the machine.

Linden looked up at him curiously and with a tad bit of shock as if she had not realized she was no longer alone in the room. "Coffee any good?" he questioned the petite redhead.

"Absolute shit," she replied her eyes boring into him as if he held some answer even he didn't know of.

His face split into a wide grin. He was moving across the room to join her at the table when she abruptly stood and left the room. Years later when he was being introduced to his new partner in Homicide, he nearly fainted but quickly checked himself when he realized she didn't remember him at all.


End file.
